


Brendon Urie is a Spooky Ghost

by Gayer_Than_Dean_Winchester



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Crack, Death of a Bachelor, M/M, This really is supposed to be bad i swear, say crack again, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayer_Than_Dean_Winchester/pseuds/Gayer_Than_Dean_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the true story about how Brendon Urie DIED.  But honestly, my first ever crack, so be warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brendon Urie is a Spooky Ghost

             Brendon Urie had a secret: a secret no one knows.  A very secretive secret of secretness.  Only his fellow band memers knew, but that was just the thing.  He had no other band members.  Panic! at the Disco's most recent album hosted a new lineup: Brendon Urie, Brendon Urie, and guest vocals by Brendon Freakin' Urie.  Another way of saying that is Death of a Bachelor was a solo effort.  It happened to also be his first ever number 1 album.  It was named after its Sinatra-inspired title song, which most fans understood for its obvious meaning.  "Death of a Bachelor" meant that a previously single Brendon had just gotten married.  But actually, NOPE!

              _Ryan set up a band meeting at one of those McDonald's that had a playground inside of it.  The playground part was intended for children under 12, but Ryan weighed exactly 7.2 pounds and Brendon had mental age of 5, so it was an ideal location.  Brendon rolled out of bed early that morning (1 P.M) because he wanted to get shit **done!**. He spent extra time on his hair, extra time on picking out his outfit, and extra time making himself smell like glitter, all because Ryan was going to be there, and Brendon was not so discreetly in love with him.  It wasn't as though anyone thought either of them were straight, and Brendon had a tattoo on his inner thigh that said "Mrs. Ryan Ross", and even though he assumed the meeting was only to discuss lyrics and song structure, perhaps for the new album, he was still giddy as all hell.  Then, he glanced at the clock, and ran into his car._

 _Brendon entered the playground part of the fine dining establishment and only got weird looks from 5 mothers.  At a two person table, not the 4 person they usually took, Ryan sat, glittering under the sick yellow lighting.  He was grimly stuffing his face with a Big Mac, and chasing it with a Coke, as he maintained eye contact._ Oh, how I wish I was that burger, _thought Brendon._

_"Sit down," commanded the little fairy king of emos with a mouthful of pink slime and cholesterol.  Brendon complied, taking the seat across from him and stealing a fry._

_"Where are Jon and Spencer?" Brendon asked.  He was pretty sure Ryan's fries were embedded with glitter._

_"Jon's waiting in his car, and you know Spencer's always late," Ryan remarked, a sad smile gracing his lips._ Oh my God he's asking me out isn't he?  _thought Brendon._

_"Jon and I are leaving the band," said Ryan calmly, as Brendon passed out._

_When he woke, a salted strip of potato he could no longer taste hanging out of his mouth, Ryan was going on about things:_

_"-artistic differences Brendon. Plus my girlfriend doesn't really like you.  You understand.  Bren, you okay?"  Brendon sat up straighter, and Ryan rose his eyebrows marginally._

_"Brendon, uhh, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but you're a ghost."_

           And that's how Brendon Urie died.  A broken heart.  And now, in 2015, he was still a spooky ghost.  A very spooky ghost.  He had spooked away Spencer and Dallon, and made his new record all by his spooky self.  He thought that maybe the title would be a good way to break almost eight years of silence on the matter, with the key word being "Death".  But NOPE!!1 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there's that, if you survived. Feel free to provide me with constructive criticism, but I do hope you realize this was bad on purpose.


End file.
